Awakenings
by AmyNW
Summary: Darcy and Elizabeth first dance at the Lucas' gathering, awakening some unexpected desires in Elizabeth. Regency.
1. Chapter 1

**Awakenings**

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 _Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from_ _suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; - to her he was only the man who made himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with._ _  
_ _ **  
**_ _He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were assembled._

* * *

Not long after performing a few songs at the Lucas' gathering, Elizabeth, finding herself in need of air, moved toward the door near which Sir William and Mr. Darcy stood conversing. Upon seeing her, Sir William called out, "My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? - Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. - You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.''

And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William, "Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. - I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.''

Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed the honour of her hand. Elizabeth was initially determined to refuse, until she spied Mr. Archibald Coleridge being presented to Mr. Bingley. Mr. Coleridge, "Archie," as she had once known him, had been among her favourite playmates as a child. She had heard he had recently returned from his grand tour, and hoped to learn how he now fared and hear his many fascinating stories. She frowned, knowing that if she refused Mr. Darcy, she would have no opportunity to dance with Mr. Coleridge that evening.

"I thank you, sir," she said resignedly, presenting her hand to Mr. Darcy. She took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. - I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.''

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

In a most unusual of circumstances, Elizabeth found herself unable to respond. For though on first acquaintance she had allowed Mr. Darcy to be handsome, her disgust at his pride had quickly removed any such feeling. Yet now, as he smiled, she was struck by the warmth of his eyes, the charm of his dimples, and the beauty of his well-formed mouth.

"So you do not talk by rule then, while you are dancing?''

Mr. Darcy's voice startled her from her reverie, and reminded her how disagreeable a man he was. She found her wit and replied, "Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet— …"

Once more, she could not speak, for Mr. Darcy was smiling again, observing her with penetrating dark eyes and a face, she now admitted, that was the most handsome she had ever seen.

"And yet?" Mr. Darcy prompted.

Elizabeth blushed. Oh, this would not do, to be rendered dumb-struck by the smile of an unpleasant man, no matter how beautiful! "Perhaps I was wrong," she said quickly, "and talking while dancing is not required." If she ended the conversation she had been so foolish to begin, she might regain control of herself.

Mr. Darcy seemed content to be silent, yet he did not cease staring nor smiling each time they passed. With each glance of his eyes as they crossed, and each touch of his hand as they came together, her discomposure increased. She felt light-headed, short of breath, her heart rapidly beating.

She tried to will herself to turn away, to look at anyone but him, but soon found that everyone else in the room had ceased to exist. Only Mr. Darcy remained. Mr. Darcy, whose dark lashes framed eyes so rich and deep. Mr. Darcy, whose smile seemed to reach the deepest parts of herself. Mr. Darcy, whose touch sent shivers through her hand, up her arm, and to her heart. Mr. Darcy, whose look made her belly quiver with excitement.

Every part of her felt warm now. She felt a dampness between her legs that she knew did not result from the heat of the room. So different were these feelings from any she had ever experienced, she wondered for a moment whether he was a sorcerer who had placed a spell upon her. Yet if so, she was now his captive, having no desire to end the enchantment.

 _"I am Mr. Darcy's, to do as he will."_ These unspeakable words in her head felt as natural as air. How had it happened that such a notion did not shock her? She glanced at him, blushing furiously, for surely he knew her wanton thoughts! She gave him a gentle smile, yearning to assure herself that he felt as she felt.

And then, too soon, it was over. Mr. Coleridge came to request the next dance with her, but she begged off, claiming a headache and the need for air. The cool breeze outdoors did nothing to calm her. Instead, when she closed her eyes, she saw only _him_ , and allowed herself to feel it _all_ with a deep sigh, a moan, and a throbbing bliss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air;_ _and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her -_

 _"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?''_

 _She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence._

 _"Oh!'' said she, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say "Yes," that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all - and now despise me if you dare.''_

 _"Indeed I do not dare.''_

 _Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger._

* * *

It was rather inconvenient to desire someone who so clearly disdained you.

After the party at the home of Sir William, Lizzy had decided to think no more of Mr. Darcy. By day, such a decision was possible to uphold, for she had much activity to occupy herself, and the gentleman in question revealed often how little he thought of her. He had already pronounced her neither handsome enough to tempt him, nor accomplished enough to admire. She wondered at his asking her, on more than one occasion, to dance, but concluded that he had noticed her admiration and wanted to mock her for it by offering her a temptation that he would never fulfill. Mr. Wickham's sad tale informed her conclusion that such cruelty was not outside his character.

Yet every night, alone on her bed, the memories of their dance and the desires he had conjured within her fiercely returned. She had learned to touch the places she felt him most keenly, breathlessly imagining his fingers in place of her own.

By day, such thoughts mortified her, and thus avoidance, refusal, and arguments became her modes for maintaining her distance from Mr. Darcy. During their recent stay at Netherfield, when she was unable to remain at Jane's bedside, she had chosen to read rather than join the others in a game of loo, return to the house rather than walk alongside him, and to criticize and contradict him at every turn in order to reduce his power over her. By the time Jane was well enough to return home, Elizabeth's efforts had achieved their aim, for Darcy scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.

She eagerly looked forward to the ball at Netherfield and the opportunity to dance with Mr. Wickham, for he was a man who, although not as handsome as Mr. Darcy, bested him in charm and good manners. Surely time well spent in Wickham's company would make her forget these infernal desires! Upon learning of his absence, she quelled her disappointment by making sport with Charlotte of her recently arrived and quite ridiculous cousin, Mr. Collins.

After two miserable dances with Mr. Collins, followed by two delightful ones with a charming officer, she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence.

How little Charlotte understood of the true reasons for her reluctance to dance with Darcy! Elizabeth knew that she would be unable to maintain her hard-won equanimity in Darcy's presence once he trained his beautiful eyes and disarming smile in her direction once more.

And truly it was so! With the beguiling gentleman peering intently at her, the other guests vanished, and only he remained. Both partners seemed content to not speak, communicating through looks and touches the passion they felt within. For in this moment, how could Elizabeth doubt that Mr. Darcy was as captivated as she was? Indeed, when next he touched her hand, he did not release it. Instead, he pulled her away from the rest of the dancers.

Entranced, bewitched, and thoughtless of appearances, she accompanied him as he led her from the ballroom, down the corridor, and into Mr. Bingley's study. Did she really hear him exhale her name as she closed her eyes, waiting, waiting?

His lips, soft and warm, touched her own, and his hands caressed her face and hair. In response her own lips opened, and she sighed as their kiss became much sweeter and more enticing than she had ever imagined a kiss could be. Warmth flooded her, and she pressed herself against him, knowing instinctively that she needed to feel his hardness everywhere, his firm chest against her tender breasts and especially his maleness in the burning, quivering spot between her thighs. Darcy moaned as his lips trailed from her mouth down her neck, nuzzling her delicate skin, suckling her décolletage, increasing her aching desire for him.

They moved as one against a wall, her gowns lifting in his expert hands, and her dreams coming to life as he began to stroke her with his lovely, long fingers. "Ohhhh," she gasped, quivering under his magical touch. She felt his fingers _inside_ her, filling her, warm and burning and enchanting. His hand moved faster, his caresses firmer, until she could barely breathe, until she was filled with such heat and shimmering bliss she had to grip his shirt to keep from falling.

Darcy embraced her and gently kissed her lips. "Loveliest Elizabeth," he murmured.

As her trembling faded to a gentle pulse, she opened her eyes to see this man, this man she wanted to hate but knew she had come to love, staring back at her with such tenderness she wanted to cry. "What shall we do now?" she asked, somewhat afraid of his answer. For now she was not only not handsome and not accomplished in his eyes, but also wanton and corrupt.

Darcy smiled. "We have no choice. I have thoroughly compromised you."

"Not quite," she replied.

He chuckled. "No, not quite." He gently stroked her cheek. "Soon, when you are my wife, I promise to finish what we have started."

"Please don't…" she hesitated. But she had to know, so she continued. "Please do not marry someone you despise out of obligation."

"Despise you? Elizabeth, I love you! I have dreamt of you since the night we first danced together."

"So have I. So why then did you argue with me, and ignore me?"

"Why did you?"

"I was afraid of what I felt. What you made me feel."

"So was I," he admitted. "But I am not afraid any longer. You have awakened in me a love I never imagined I could feel. My deepest desire, dearest Elizabeth, is to make you my wife. But I am loathe to have you marry me out of obligation either. Please say yes only if you feel as I do."

And of course, Elizabeth smiled and said yes, for she, too, was now fully awake.

~~%~~


End file.
